Flash Photography
by SharpestSatire
Summary: Jane gets a camera, much to Lisbon's horror. Chaos ensues. This sparks an almost unbelievable chain of events, culminating in Red John's reappearance.
1. Signs of the Apocalypse

**The inspiration for this story comes from the story _Long Lost (Long Last)_ by hardly loquacious. I think I might've already had a vague idea for a Mentalist fic, but the idea of Jane having a hobby got me thinking even more. Anyway, _LL (LL)_ is a really good story. Go check it out!**

**Shout out and many thanks to: hardly loquacious for beta-ing/editing this for me. **

**Disclaimer: I'm female. Enough said.**

* * *

As the head of the Serious Crimes Unit, Teresa Lisbon had seen many odd things. A case being solved by a gold feather, a team member losing his memory, going to the circus and being called 'Pepper'… It was enough to make one wonder if the Serious Crimes Unit was misnamed as some kind of sick joke. A Serious Crimes Unit should have more, well, _serious _crimes. Straight forward ones, if you will. Not ones even remotely having anything to do with tigers digging up bodies.

But the Serious Crimes Unit sounded better than Odds & Ends Unit or Misc. Unit or The Weird Cases Unit… The CBI did have some pride after all, no matter what certain people said.

Of course, Lisbon was 99% sure that the reason most of the cases turned out the way they did was because of a specific person.

Upon reflection, as Lisbon sat at her desk, she saw things on a normal basis that other cops only saw in their cases, oh, every ten years or so. Or not at all. Ever. Maybe. She doubted anyone else had watched a speedboat explode as they approached it with their team.

Yes, Teresa Lisbon had seen many odd things.

But sitting at her desk and eyeing the bullpen, she thought she was seeing the oddest thing of all.

Patrick Jane was sitting at his desk. Reading a book. Albeit a book that probably wasn't CBI or case related, but he was sitting at his _desk_.

If Cho walked in with a tiara on his head, Lisbon wouldn't have been surprised. Jane had been gone for six months, but that hadn't changed everything about him. Certainly not this, she knew.

She tried to work. Really, she did. But finally she had to admit defeat. She approached Patrick Jane warily. He was _still_ sitting his desk. Now… jotting down notes?

She stood in front of his desk for a full minute. There was a goodly sized box next to his elbow that looked like it had thrown up its packing material all over the desk. Clearly, he was reading an instruction manual of some sort, which came as a relief to some degree. Cho had once come upon Jane reading a CBI rule book (brushing up on regulations before he defended himself in court), but Lisbon had yet to see it herself.

Jane's fingers were covering the title. It could be anything.

He finally looked up. "Lisbon."

"Jane," she acknowledged. He went back to his reading and scribbling notes, while she went back to her staring (and telling herself this was _not _one of the signs of the apocalypse).

She was just reminding herself of this fact again – after all she was a Catholic, however lapsed - when Jane looked up and blinked his blue eyes once. "Can I help you with something, Lisbon?" he offered solicitously.

"What are you reading?" she asked warily.

"A manual."

"A manual for what?"

"The thing that I ordered."

Lisbon gritted her teeth. Jane smiled.

"What did you order, Jane?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing to bring about the end of the world, I assure you," he replied, without looking up. "I could feel you imagining all sorts of terrible things from your office so, in answer to your question, I am sitting at my desk because there was more room to spread out and open my package. I was being logical. Aren't you proud of me?"

Lisbon decided not to address _that _loaded question. "I didn't ask why you were at your desk. I asked what you were reading."

"I may not be psychic, my dear, but you were practically screaming the question."

Lisbon frowned at Jane. She could feel a headache forming behind her brow. She _hated _this. This kind of thing usually ended with her being yelled at by… Never mind. She refused to think about Wainwright just now. She refused to let Red John's actions ruin a single, simple conversation with Jane.

Jane interrupted her thoughts, as he was wont to do. "Redgrave sent me a letter and a photo."

"Huh?" slipped out before her mind caught up. "Oh, the Wyck Theissen case? The washed-up fashion designer from a while ago?"

"Right in one, Lisbon." Jane closed the manual for "what he ordered," scribbled one more sentence and clicked off the pen loudly.

Why was a state of confused frustration so common around Jane? Did he do it purposefully or was it just Lisbon he deemed worthy enough? She'd say getting information from him was like pulling teeth, but she was sure pulling teeth was easier.

"Why would Redgrave send you a letter and photo?" she asked after a moment.

"Because." Jane began, ever so succinctly and helpfully. He started lifting random packaging off the desk. "The letter's on my couch, actually. He sent it a while ago. Go ahead and read it."

Lisbon walked towards the couch. A piece of square shaped styrofoam was bumped off the desk by Jane, followed by a box landing were Lisbon had just been standing.

"It's not your couch and I hope you know you're cleaning that up," Lisbon said, eyeing the mess as she sat down with the letter.

"Yes it is, and yes I will clean it up, boss," Jane said cheerfully. "Ah _ha_!"

A handful of packing peanuts went flying.

Lisbon shook her head, feeling her headache start throbbing its way back to life. She unfolded the letter.

_Mr. Jane,_

_I won't lie. I take pictures for the money and the models. But from time to time, I take a picture for art's sake. You can communicate a lot by glance or body language, as I'm sure you know. People frozen in mid expression, their feelings and subtle messages forever stilled - I love it._

_Say hello to Teresa and Grace for me._

The letter was signed with a sharp and spiky scribble that was barely readable as 'Tony Redgrave.'

Lisbon frowned, a sneer crossing her face as she thought of the man who, frankly, creeped her out. He wasn't an artist so much as a pervert hiding behind a camera and the name of art.

She pulled the photo out facedown. Redgrave'd written a message on the back.

_Want to write a caption for this one?_

Lisbon flipped the photo over and her eyebrows drew together in confusion. It was just Jane and her, standing down the hallway. The background had almost been blurred to the extreme, obviously professionally, so that they stood out clearly, not even facing each other entirely. She could barely make out Van Pelt's form arresting Sasha.

In the photo, Lisbon was glancing up and to the left, a slight grin on her lips. Jane wasn't quite looking at her anymore and had an expression hard to pinpoint on his face.

"Jane," she began, looking between the letter and photo, "I'm still confus - "

"Fascinating," Jane mumbled.

As a general rule, when Jane mumbled things like that you should quickly find what he was looking at. When Lisbon looked up, she was blinded by the flash of a… camera? She blinked rapidly.

"_Patrick Jane_," she burst out furiously. "You delete that _right _now!"

"Wow," Jane said, ignoring her to look at the small screen on the shiny blue (of course) camera he was holding. "Redgrave was right. I wasn't sure, seeing how irksome he is, but I'm glad I ordered this. Smile, Lisbon!"

Another flash of irritating light and Lisbon was on her feet and after Jane in an instant.

And that was how Jane came to have a camera (and discover how camera shy Lisbon was).

* * *

**Sometimes I wonder if I purposefully try to make things difficult for myself. I'm doing Camp NaNo in August, but posting this _now_. How bright is that? There's still roughly 5 chapters left for this too... So by next week I'll still have to edit the next chapter and work on my NaNo novel. *headdesk***

**Anyway, review please! :)**

**-SS**


	2. Arts of Chaos

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are all lovely and awesome. I did get one guest reviewer (SBlover) who I couldn't thank personally by PM, so this is my thank you for reviewing to that person. **

**hardly loquacious is a lovely beta. Many thanks to hardly loquacious. Truly. :)**

**Disclaimer: Like I said before. I'm a girl.**

* * *

Photography was probably one of the more subtle arts of chaos Jane had utilized in his entire history at the CBI. And it never lost its ability to irritate. You never knew when Jane would pull out the little device everyone had come to loathe, especially the women of the SCU in particular.

Lisbon soon found out she wasn't even safe doing something like paperwork. This particular fact was proven one day when she'd been reading over one of Cho's reports. Cho had a dry sense of wit that would surprise people. His reports were almost ridiculously blunt. Lisbon wasn't entirely sure Cho was trying to be funny, which made it even more so.

His report read:

_Knocked on suspect's door. Door opened. Dog ran out; slobbered everywhere. Started eating Rigsby's right shoe. Rigsby panicked and took off shoe. Dog ate shoe. Rigsby looked repulsed._

Lisbon could picture it easily and began to smile. Just like that: _Flash!_ Jane announced his presence with the click of a button.

"Jane!" Lisbon yelled, flustered. "I'm doing paperwork! Get out of here!"

Jane smiled, unperturbed. "But you're reading _Cho's _reports. I like watching you read them."

There was something almost sweet about that creepy statement.

Lisbon launched a paper clip at him in reply and Jane beat a hasty retreat.

~_The Mentalist_~

Truly, Jane was lucky he wasn't accidentally shot by one of them as a result of one of his surprise 'photo shoots.'

It was after they'd just finished a case and were enjoying closed case pizza. The last team to leave the CBI as usual, the bullpen was all theirs and the only light amongst the otherwise dark offices and hallways. The smell of pizza permeated the air.

"I bet you can't get a whole slice of pizza in your mouth," Cho said to Rigsby expressionlessly.

Van Pelt looked grossed out. "Ew!"

Lisbon tried to look neutral, although she secretly wanted to second Van Pelt's "Ew!"

Jane was watching the events with undisguised fascination.

"Oh, come on, man," Rigsby scoffed. "That's easy."

"Then do it," Cho dared.

Rigsby glanced not too subtly at Van Pelt. "Nah, man, not tonight. I'm stuffed."

"You can't do it," Cho stated.

"I can too!"

"Cannot."

"Can too!"

"Prove it."

Rigsby blinked, clearly debating between his pride and disgusting Van Pelt. His pride won.

"Ok," Rigsby agreed. He picked up a slice of pizza, sucked in a breath, then stuffed the slice into his mouth.

Jane snapped a picture. Rigsby's face turned red. Van Pelt tried to help him. Cho's lips twitched. Lisbon started laughing. And Jane quickly got a picture of Lisbon, unbeknownst her.

~_The Mentalist_~

Cho was getting coffee. Black, of course. Coffee was for caffeine, not taste. To get the most out of every cup, he never added any creamer or sugar. Unsurprisingly, he found tea pathetic in comparison to coffee, much to Jane's dismay.

Cho poured himself a cup and went to put the coffee pot back, unaware of the lurking Jane. As he placed the pot back on the pad, the scalding coffee sloshed over the side and right onto Cho's thumb.

Cho did not yell. (He was _Cho_.) He sucked in a breath and did what most people, ex-Avon Park Playboys included, do. He stuck his burned thumb into his mouth as he turned around. Right into the lens of Jane's camera.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

And Jane had a picture of Cho with his thumb in his mouth.

~_The Mentalist_~

Despite appearances, Van Pelt was just as scarred as the rest of the team. She just hid it differently.

But even with the darkness in her past, and the not fully healed wounds from Craig, she still enjoyed life. She had no problem with flowers. She wore feminine clothing. She wore jewelry. She watched some popular TV shows. She liked football, and she liked shopping.

She also listened to all the popular songs.

And even in the interview room, just after hearing a confession of murder, she had a tune stuck in her head, a beat that wouldn't stop.

Rigsby came in and took the criminal away. Lisbon stuck her head in to tell her good work and Jane waved to her as he walked out of the observation room and down the hall. Cho was probably in the bullpen.

She was alone.

With a sigh of relief, Van Pelt checked a final box off on the confession, closed the folder and stood up.

What started as humming turned into actual singing as she left the interrogation room. The hallway was clear and for a brief, daring moment, Van Pelt gave in and sang aloud, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger! Stand a little taller!"

She didn't have time to sing much more, but what she _did _end up doing was adding a semi-skip dance move as she walked into the kitchen.

Jane snapped a picture of Van Pelt singing and dancing her way into the kitchen, cheerful and upbeat as a sunbeam, and graceful as her name.

It was completely humiliating. Van Pelt, ever the optimist, was just grateful Jane hadn't realized that cameras also now recorded video.

~_The Mentalist_~

And so, Jane continued to document the events of the SCU, wielding his camera with all the stamina of a man who, instead of being threatened, was only energized by his victim's cries of anger.

* * *

***rubs hands together* Ok, ladies and gents, this is it. We're going into RJ territory now. Say goodbye to the light! (I really want to quote a certain _Jurassic Park_ line right now, but I'll refrain.) ****Actually, because of fanfiction, RJ doesn't scare me as much anymore. You know why? I can make RJ wear a tutu on here if I want. No joke. The only RJ I fear is the tv show RJ. But on here? I control him. *resists urge to cackle***

**In other news: sadly, there is no guarantee that I will update next week on time or at all… Because of NaNo, which starts tomorrow, and because my plot decided to balk and run away. It needs some major work (and talking to).**

**Hope you enjoyed. :)**

**-SS**


	3. A Big Something

***points* ****OH MY WORD, LOOK OVER THERE! *posts chapter lightening fast and sprints away before anyone sees her***

* * *

Three weeks and one day of Jane owning a (loathed, hated, maybe even feared) camera had passed and Lisbon was coming out of the kitchen en route to the bullpen. She'd just taken a sip of coffee when the all too familiar flash went off.

"We have a new case," she said, shooting Jane a dirty look. "Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, take the van. Jane, with me."

Teresa Lisbon loved her team. For them she was willing to play the martyr and be in the car with Jane. And his camera. Alone.

(Ok, despite her prickly exterior, she really did have a soft spot for Jane. Why did she? She was pretty sure there must have been some insanity way back in her family tree…)

The SCU jumped into action, grabbing gear, refilling portable coffee mugs and booking it out of the CBI in record time. A few minutes later, Jane and Lisbon were pulling out of the CBI and Lisbon was already smacking Jane's hand way from the radio dial.

"No classical music, Jane," she warned. "I spent all last night filing paperwork because of you and I don't want to fall asleep."

"But Lisbon," he whined. "It's _classical _music. Don't you have taste? Style? Panache? _Savoir-faire_?"

Lisbon was no expert, but she was pretty sure his French accent was horrendous.

"I want to get to the crime scene in one piece," Lisbon retorted. "All the style in the world won't save us if I fall asleep and drive off the road."

"Give me some credit, Lisbon. I'd wake you before then. Or you could just let me drive and you can sleep while I do so."

Lisbon turned on her blinker as she came to a stop at a red light. "The answer to both," Lisbon said calmly, "is still no."

"You've let me drive before."

"Jane, you're not a toddler, no matter how many times you act like one. You know what 'no' means. Stop asking."

Jane switched on the radio. Lisbon reached out and flipped it off but not before Jane took a picture… of her hand?

Lisbon felt a silly spring of hope that maybe he would no longer be taking pictures of her face.

A car honked. "The light's green, Lisbon," Jane said cheerfully, looking at his camera screen.

Great, it was going to be one of _those _days.

~_The Mentalist_~

By the time they arrived, Jane had suffered through a hard sock on the arm and was being threatened with a punch in the nose next if he didn't control himself.

Lisbon slammed the car door with more force than necessary and pushed her hair out of her face.

"I swear, Jane," she snarled. "One more picture and the camera gets it." She paused. "On second thought, give me the camera right now."

"It's mine, Lisbon."

"This is a crime scene, Jane! Not a carnival! You can't take pictures!"

People were beginning to stare and Lisbon stopped waving her arms. Stupid busybody cops. Why not look at the murdered woman instead of unfolding CBI Agent yelling at her consultant?

"You let me take pictures at the last crime scene. Be reasonab - "

"_Reasonable_? I am reasonable! More than reasonable! And patient as well! Anyone else would've smashed it by now. I should've taken it away at the first crime scene, but I thought you'd have more sense. Silly of me, I know."

"I wasn't taking pictures of the body, Lisbon," Jane said, all ruffled feathers and huffy dramatics.

"I never said you were." The fact that he'd been taking pictures of _her _was the issue. "It's far too distracting for everyone if you have that camera, so give it to me."

Jane pulled out the camera in question, to Lisbon's shock, but instead of giving it to her, he took a picture of her standing in front of the SUV, the forest behind the dead woman's house reflected in the car window. Lisbon counted backwards from ten in her head, breathing deeply.

"No," Jane said simply. "It's mine."

Lisbon stepped closer and Jane raised an eyebrow. Quickly, Lisbon snatched the camera from him. She'd grown up with brothers taller than her. She knew how things usually ended up, which was why she simply took it before he remembered his height advantage. Although, knowing Jane, it was likely he was simply patronizing her. But she really didn't care as long as she had the camera.

"Now," she said wearily. "Let's go look at the dead body."

"You say the sweetest things," Jane muttered. "Can I at least see the picture I just took?"

Lisbon paused and deliberated. It appeared that she had a choice between examining the crime scene with Jane pouting and nagging and getting revenge by being even more a nuisance _or_ looking at the crime scene with him being sullen but semi-content.

Lisbon sighed, pulled the camera from her pocket and turned on the device. She held the screen so it faced him. It was open to the last picture he had taken.

"Me," she stated, summing up the photo. "Car. Trees. Very nice and very exciting. Ready now?"

Jane didn't try to take the camera from her but instead took a hold of it, her hand included, and stepped closer. The car was right behind her and there was nowhere else for her to subtly shift back.

He squinted at the screen in the sunlight and Lisbon pretended her cheeks were pink on account of the sun. You'd think she'd get used to his lack of awareness when it came to her personal space.

Jane was frowning at the picture so intensely Lisbon began to worry.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked, half-heartedly joking to hide concern. "Is my face dirty?"

His frown deepened, his curls highlighted gold under the sun. She could count his eyelashes and he still gazed intensely at the screen.

"Nothing," he finally murmured. "Let's go."

Confused, Lisbon pocketed the camera again and went to do her job.

Jane pick-pocketed it back, of course. She noticed later when he took a picture of her hands on the steering wheel on the drive back. Apparently, his reasoning was that when she was driving, no portrait shoots. But in Lisbon's opinion, a bright, sudden light was still a bright, sudden light whether it was aimed at her hands or face.

She didn't say another about it though. Pick your own battles and all. She also was chewing over the case. Jane was quiet, fiddling with his camera and, Lisbon assumed, mulling over the new case as well.

(I.e., coming up with some crazy scheme to catch the killer and make Lisbon almost lose her job. Or her hair. Or her sanity.)

But, as it turned out, what Jane had brushed off wasn't "nothing." It was something. A big something.

A Red John something.

~_The Mentalist_~

Lisbon sighed and reached for her coffee cup. She brought it to her lips before remembering that it was empty. With more violence than necessary, she put down the mug and started to straighten her desk.

Stress ball in the top right corner. Small potted plant moved to the left two inches. Photo frames were angled more towards her chair. Stress ball was moved to its original place again… and repeat.

The case was driving her up a wall. Jessica Rod lived alone in an old fashioned house surrounded by an insane amount of woods. Each of her small group of friends and family was lying about something, according to Jane, and one specifically about his or her alibi.

("_Obviously_, Jane," she had scoffed. "_Someone _had to kill her.")

The problem was they didn't know which one.

Jessica Rod also had bats in her attic, much to Jane's delight and Lisbon's undisguised horror. Jane and bats, unsurprisingly, didn't mix well. The case couldn't be solved fast enough. Jessica's small group of friends and family had barely had been in the house, which didn't narrow the suspect list down at all. Jessica had moved recently. So no one knew the house well enough (save, obviously, the murderer) to sneak in easily. Ergo, it could be anyone.

Lisbon moved her potted plant to the right two inches and glanced towards the bullpen. She looked down at case file before doing a double take towards the bullpen.

Yes, maybe she'd overreacted before. But she could still count on one hand how many times she'd seen Jane at his desk. And the last time he'd been sitting there he'd bought a camera. So now she definitely had good reason to feel a shot of panic.

Jane glanced up and gave an exaggerated wave to Lisbon. Lisbon raised her eyebrows. He smiled and went back to… whatever he was doing.

Lisbon picked up her empty mug and made a beeline for Jane. They might be in for another impending disaster, after all. Jane even had a laptop open in front of him.

Visions of photo editing dancing through her head, Lisbon asked, "Jane, what are you doing?"

He looked up. "Hello, Lisbon. I'm on Grace's laptop."

Lisbon narrowed her eyes. "I can see that. Does it have to do with the Rod case?"

_Or bats, _she added mentally._ Please don't let it be about bats. Or photo editing._

Jane waved a hand dismissively, eyes going back to the screen. "Bah. The case is practically solved."

"Oh, really? Since when?"

"Since this morning. Jessica bought the house recently, but the amount of money in her bank account didn't significantly change. Therefore, someone gave her the money. Probably anonymously and probably in case. And whoever Jessica's stalker was probably knows that house well too, justifying his tendency to snoop around as his right since she used his money to buy it."

"And this helps us how?"

"So now all we have to do is take all the suspects up to the creaky attic and see who is aware they're about to disturb innocent bats."

"Innocent? They nearly took my eyes out!"

"Yes, well, you should've ducked faster. Shame on you for not having better reflexes."

"Like _you're _one to talk."

"I ducked faster than you, Lisbon."

Lisbon took a deep breath. "You couldn't have told me about this plan sooner?"

"You looked busy."

Lisbon resisted throwing her mug at him. _Remember the anger management classes_, she thought.

_Yes_, another voice muttered. _The ones you had to take _because_ of Jane._

Jane glanced up from the laptop and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Deep breaths, Lisbon," he murmured innocently.

"_Jane _– " She stopped, seeing the director walking by the bullpen. When he had left their view, Lisbon turned to find Jane grinning widely.

"It's like I plan these things," he said. "I bet you're about to say – "

"Shut up, Jane."

"If I didn't know for sure there were no psychics, I'd say – "

In the end what saved Lisbon's mug (and Jane's nose) was Van Pelt walking into the bullpen, a cup of coffee in hand.

"You almost done with my card reader and laptop yet, Jane?" she asked. "I can burn a disk for you later, if you like."

"Thank you, Grace," Jane said sincerely. But he was no longer smiling. "That would be lovely."

Lisbon could feel a sense of foreboding settling down around her; she fixed her eyes on Jane. At the mention of the computer related technology he almost completely shut down. He was so utterly focused on the computer screen again Jane didn't notice (didn't_ notice_) her watching him. It was a look she only saw when Red John was involved. And it said a lot about the seriousness of the situation, whatever it was. Jane was always in control of what he showed the world and right now he had a look had that always frightened her and turned her cop instincts on high alert.

Jane noticed Lisbon's gazing after a moment. He met her eyes, the familiar mix of tension and things unsaid fizzing between them.

"Go ahead and get your refill," he said quietly, unsmiling. "You're going to need it."

* * *

**I could spin you tales of stress, drama, NaNo failures, college, _Flash Photography _wrangling and mild freak outs... but I won't. All I will say is a sincere and contrite apology for the wait for this chapter: I am _very, very_ sorry for the wait. I really had hoped to finish this up before the new _Mentalist _season started (EEEEE! *happy dance*), and kept a solid posting schedule, but it doesn't look like that will be happening. **

**Thank you hardly loquacious for beta-ing this. Really. This probably wouldn't have been posted if hardly loquacious hadn't beta-ed this. **

**Also, a tiny bit about _FP_: this is basically a PWP (plot? What plot?) story. It's also personally cathartic to me because, well, I'm sure we all want Red John to die. Like, die ASAP. So I believe this story was written in a fit of frustration. It's 10-ish chapters long, all written and needs to be edited. (hardly loquacious beta-ed it, I just have to look over the edits and I haven't gotten around it it. *sheepish*) So the "plot" moves pretty quickly, isn't very deep and is a rather simple way of solving the RJ issue. If you're looking for a very deep, complicated plot, you've come to the wrong story. :P There are so many other amazing (_really _incredible) _Mentalist_ fanfics out there with an insane amount of thought put into how they wrap up the Red John case that I'm in awe whenever I read them. So saying, I'm humbled that you're reading this. Thank you a million times and I hope you enjoy the rest!**

**Read and review, if it pleases you! :)**

**- (a very tired) SS**


	4. The Network

**I don't know about you guys, but tomorrow is when the new _Mentalist_ seasonis airing where I am. :D I'll probably be able to watch it on Monday. I'm _so _excited. I can't believe the new season is finally starting! It's so surreal! I've been counting down the days and reading fanfiction and now the day is practically here... "YAY!" doesn't even begin to cover it.**

**A huge thank you to all of you who reviewed! You guys are the best. Truly. Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

A few minutes later, Lisbon was sitting in a chair at Jane's insistence. He knelt beside her on the hard floor with his camera in his hand. Neither of their bodies touched, but both were utterly aware of each other.

The first picture was of –

"Delete that right now," Lisbon barked, feeling her cheeks flush.

"You look fine, Lisbon," he assured her. "Look at it this way. You were making that expression in public anyway. There's no difference to having it frozen."

Oh, Lisbon could argue _that _point into the dust, but the retort died on her tongue. Jane's tone had lacked its usual brightness, even if that brightness was sometimes fake. Now he wasn't even making the effort to put on the... mask

Lisbon studied the picture instead, trying to see what Jane saw. In the picture, the team was in the bullpen eating lunch. The entire team was in the photo, but it was centered on Lisbon. Lisbon had her mouth partly open mid-speech and her eyes half closed mid blink.

It was unflattering, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

While Lisbon continued to examine the picture, Jane spoke quietly, "I knew he kept tabs. I know he _still _does. He can probably hear us right now. But…" Jane was at a loss for words. _Jane _was. "I don't know. Intellectually, I _knew_, but seeing it in front of my eyes is different. Seeing how many connections and methods of surveillance he has…"

Jane fell silent just as Lisbon saw it. In the picture, behind her and to the left, was a tall potted plant. Something thanks to Jane's (irritatingly) bright camera flash. Something that was almost dismissible except for the glint, almost as if…

"Is that a camera on the leaf?" Lisbon whispered.

"Yes," Jane said soberly, a puff of air stirring her hair as he leaned on his haunches. Lisbon was on her feet in a second, but Jane caught her wrist.

"Leave it," he said quietly. "It's pointless."

Lisbon sat down again slowly, feeling panic rise, because this was _Red John _and _Jane_ had said it was pointless.

"We'll get them later," Jane amended as Lisbon said, "It's not _pointless_, Jane."

They stared at each other, faces serious and close. Neither of them noticed. It was in what you _didn't_ say…

"Boss?" Van Pelt called from her computer. "Is everything ok?"

Lisbon glanced at Jane and Jane nodded slightly.

"Van Pelt, gather the team and met us at the park on Ornate Street," she ordered, but the order sounded tired and lacked her normal fire. "Jane, bring the laptop."

~_The Mentalist_~

It soon became apparent that Jane had been going through his photos for a while. He worked surprisingly quickly, clicking on a folder here and highlighting a few photos there while Lisbon waited patiently for him to show her more. Jane seemed to be sorting the pictures by who was in them, until Lisbon spotted a tree in the "team" photos and was back to being confused.

Lisbon sighed and leaned her elbows on the table. A wind whipped her hair into her face violently before dying. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she glanced around the park. Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby sat directly in front of her. There were no other people nearby. That didn't make her any less tense.

"I noticed it a few days ago," Jane said flatly, head bent over the screen. "And I finally figured out I would need a card reader to see the pictures larger." He nodded at Van Pelt. "This is Van Pelt's laptop," he said needlessly.

Only Lisbon, sitting next to Jane, was aware of his leg jiggling under the table. Otherwise he appeared calm.

"I noticed it in Jessica Rod's driveway," Jane continued.

Jane clicked past a picture of a cloud (that looked oddly like a mushroom) and opened a file. Lisbon popped up on the screen, expression frazzled and frustrated, all her irritation directed at the camera lens. Or, more correctly, at Jane.

Lisbon grimaced as Jane turned the computer around so the team, sitting across from them at the table, could see.

"That was when I finally took your camera away before going into the crime scene," she said, more for the team's benefit than Jane's.

"Yeah, this is when you stole it," Jane agreed, heedless of her protest at his word choice. "See how Lisbon is almost leaning against the car?"

"Yes, Jane," Cho said neutrally.

"You can see it in the reflection of the window in the forest behind Lisbon…" Jane waited for them to catch up.

"Is that a car?" Rigsby asked.

"There's nothing wrong with a car being there," Van Pelt said slowly. She kindly didn't say what they were all thinking: _Jane, you're being paranoid._

"We had the roads blocked off," Jane reminded her impatiently. "We'd cleared Jessica's property of anyone else. It had no right to be there."

"It's a free country, Jane," Cho said. "Anyone can get by a road block and into the woods."

Lisbon remained quiet.

"Why are you showing us this?" Rigsby asked, waving a bug away.

"Look at the other pictures," Lisbon said quietly. Van Pelt started clicking through them as Lisbon and Jane waited.

Lisbon knew which pictures would come up. They were practically engraved in her mind and she didn't need the laptop screen facing her to know which ones were popping up. Neither did Jane. The first one was a picture of them around the bullpen table eating lunch, the camera leaf in the background ruining the innocent scene.

Jane waited for them to spot it while Lisbon took a quick look around the park again. Still alone. A bird chirped in the branch above their table before flitting away.

After a second, Van Pelt gasped, Cho froze and Rigsby studied the picture a moment longer before exclaiming, "Is that a - ?"

"Yes," Jane confirmed. "A camera."

"But I thought we already knew Red John was watching us?" Van Pelt pointed out tentatively.

"There's something different in knowing something, and _seeing _proof of that fact," Lisbon said. "Solid proof."

"Van Pelt, keep scrolling," Cho stated, voice emotionless.

Silently, she did. The three leaned closer to the screen.

In some of the pictures the anomaly was easy to spot. A camera aimed too directly at them, a car having no business being were it was – but it was the "normal" pictures that got to the team. The ones of them eating at a restaurant and discussing a case, with some person in the background taking notes. Or, in most cases, Jane showing the team an otherwise normal looking person in a café that, apparently, was not tipping his or her head correctly.

Again and again and again. Pictures that would've made them laugh at other times, instead made the temperature drop slowly in their corner of the bullpen.

Van Pelt broke the silence. "I only think I recognize one person or car from previous pictures. Are there really so many followers that he can send a new one each time?"

Her face was pale.

Lisbon opened her mouth to answer, but Cho beat her to it.

"Most likely he simply put cameras in the places we visit frequently," he said flatly. "And sent a disciple when we went out for long cases. The only pictures with Red John people are the ones when we're out of town."

The three couldn't tear their eyes from the screen as Cho spoke. Van Pelt continued scrolling through them. The amount of pictures Jane had taken was staggering. Even more so the times he'd caught someone most likely related to Red John.

"How do you know this is Red John, Jane?" Rigsby finally asked. "I mean, man, I hate to say it but there are suspicious people everywhere. And if this is Red John and his followers. Surely they wouldn't be so easily – "

Lisbon answered instead. "Red John and his followers are human, Rigsby. Not perfect. He may be an infamous serial killer, known for being impossible to catch, but he's flawed and his network isn't perfect. This might be the break we need."

It wasn't paranoia if you were actually being watched by a serial killer. They were cops. _They _were supposed to be predators of the light hunting down monsters of the night.

A picture came up that had Van Pelt pausing. Lisbon leaned forward on the bench and across the table to peer at the screen by craning her neck. It was an awkward angle, but the bench only held three on one side.

The picture was of Lisbon in her "natural habitat" as Jane called it.

("'Natural habitat'? Jane," Lisbon had snapped at the time. "I don't appreciate the insinuation that I am some animal to be watched and recorded in my own apartment.")

It was Lisbon sitting on her couch, laughing. Her hair was loose, her clothing bordering on casual but worn. She looked exhausted but happy. They'd just driven back from a crime scene. The drive was five hours and Lisbon had made an impulsive decision to let Jane inside her apartment (for the third time?) while she got changed into clean, unwrinkled clothes before going back to the office.

The light from the window in her apartment was perfect. It lit up her crinkling eyes and highlighted her dimples.

Lisbon leaned back onto the bench, her throat tight.

Van Pelt silently pointed at the screen and Lisbon knew what she was pointing out in the picture without looking. In the building across the street, and almost indistinct because of the distance, was the glint of… binoculars? Camera lens?

No matter. Lisbon had been living in her apartment long enough to know there was never anything shining on that roof. Especially when there was a barely visible shape of someone behind said glint. Of all the pictures she'd seen, that one had hit her hardest. Seeing it again made that feeling come back.

"I need more coffee," Lisbon announced, standing from the bench. "There's a café around the corner. I'll be back."

~_The Mentalist_~

The café was blessedly busy and no one paid any mind to her. A thick smell of coffee permeated the air and Lisbon let the bustle of the people fill her mind. She took a both in the back corner, the entire café spread before her. She was shaking slightly, suddenly cold all over.

She'd already known that Red John followed people, or sent others to do it. Red John had, she truly believed, followed Jane around, waiting for him to say something Red John could use for his own ends. The serial killer was probably some sort of mentalist and saw a kindred spirit in Jane.

Lisbon had always known that she was probably being stalked too. Ever since she'd signed on with Jane, she'd known. Heck, ever since she'd first _spoken _to Jane, before he'd even joined her team she'd _known_. But she didn't… didn't… _know_! She _knew _there was a moon, even if the night sky was overcast. She'd never _been _to the moon, had contact with it. It was cold and distant, but there.

Red John was not the moon.

Lisbon sucked in her breath and carefully reached out to arrange the salt and pepper display in the corner. The table was slightly sticky and Lisbon grabbed a napkin to rub at the stickier spots. This was, she knew, the equivalent of straightening her desk. But she continued to scrub at the sticky spot, arrange the menus. She tried not to think too hard. She tried to pull herself together, but couldn't chase away the thoughts.

_Had she ever been safe? Not watched? She was closest to Jane. Had she ever been unobserved, even in the shower?_

"Lisbon?"

A glance around the café showed no one else looking their way. Lisbon sucked in a breath and pulled herself together, brick by brick until she could face Jane's gaze.

"Hey, Jane," she said, dropping the napkin. A laugh sounded from the other corner of the café. Jane waited until she met his eye before sliding into the booth across from her.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

Lisbon paused.

_That's what he cared about? After all this time, he thought she'd go and _tell _someone without thinking everything through?_

Well, what else was he supposed to say? He couldn't apologize. That wouldn't make sense. And neither of them liked talking about anything personal. Jane was almost being considerate by not asking Lisbon how she was.

_She'd lie even is he asked._

_You knew what you were signing on for. Pull yourself together._

_Just move forward like it's another case. Don't give Red John any special treatment._

"No," Lisbon decided. "It's too circumstantial."

"_Lisbon_," Jane began. To him, the body language of some of the people in the photos was proof enough.

She waved his sentence away. "Too circumstantial for _anyone else_, Jane, even Darcy who, arguably, we could hand this over to since Red John is connected to the Panzer murder." She watched an old man sip at his coffee before looking at Jane again. "When we get more solid evidence, ask me again. We'll work this angle ourselves until then. I don't want to push it."

She leaned on the table. (_Was Red John watching them now?_) Jane mirrored her pose, hands clasped on the table and wedding ring glinting in the light.

This was the best clue they'd gotten in a while. Lorelei was looking more and more like a dead end. There was a reason Red John had sent her after Jane. She was good. Very good. And very distracting.

"What's the first step going to be?" Jane asked.

Lisbon tried to put her thoughts in some order.

Coming here was more than just distancing herself from the Red John case for a moment. She really had meant to get coffee.

She shook the thought away, latching on to what Jane had just said.

Jane had _asked._ He wanted to work this together. He wasn't going to do a, say, sixth month con by himself without telling her. He practically came to her with Red John information by sitting at his desk. He wasn't stupid_. _He knew she'd come over as soon as he sat down at his desk.

The café's bell jingled as someone left and there was a strong whiff of coffee as an older lady walked by. Lisbon took a deep breath.

"First…"

* * *

**I really miss the light aspect of this story. I kinda can't wait until I'm done with this story so I can write something... fluffy. This story is a dark cloud looming over my head. Don't get me wrong. It's still my baby. But it's also looming. I guess every baby has to turn into a hulking, surly teenager at some point... *sigh***

**Anyway, hope you like it! Thanks again for all the support and reviews. Also, thanks to my beta, hardly loquacious, for beta-ing this. Any mistakes are my own, as are any odd plot holes - for what plot there is.**

**-SS**


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